


must be dreaming

by becuille



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Bisexuality, F/M, Healthy Jealousy, M/M, Mild Voyeurism, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Sensuality, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 08:45:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13163385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becuille/pseuds/becuille
Summary: Foggy strolls through the office door at 9:35 and Matt can smell her all over him.





	must be dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is just me imposing my big bi poly fantasies on everyone. 
> 
> I really enjoyed stretching myself to not be such a visually descriptive writer, but I'd love some concrit! This is also the first time uploading something vaguely romantic and not dubious and dark, I must be going soft.

Foggy strolls through the office door at 9:35 and Matt can smell her all over him. 

He can smell that sweet earthy perfume in his hair that she keeps in her desk drawer and only puts on if they've pulled a late night. Matt loves her that way, when he walks her home and they stretch their legs after 18 hours in the office. He puts her to bed and settles between her legs, gently pulling the exhaustion from her. 

Afterwards he can never quite wash Karen off himself. Days later he's still reminded of the thought of her musky and sopping wet and pliant to his touch. 

That's the Karen he can tell Foggy brought home last night. They've all been working too hard on their case, Karen especially seems to be taking the work home with her more than normal. Foggy kisses him sweetly after he closes the office door behind him, placing down a bag of croissants. Matt can taste the ghost of her on his lips, the cocoa butter lip balm she puts on over her lipstick.

“I got you a plain one _and_ an almond. I know you hate when that powdered sugar stuff goes everywhere, but the filling just takes it to the next level, so what the hell. It’s Friday. Dude, are you listening?”

“Yeah. Uh, thanks, Foggy.” 

“Karen’s not coming in today by the way.”

“Why? Is something wrong?” Matt tries not to sound worried, but worrying about the two of them seems to be his natural state these days. He can tell Foggy’s waiting on his reaction with baited breath. 

“She's uh. Tired. Sick. Or something.” Matt can hear the smirk in his voice, and, while it puts him at ease, his mind starts racing. 

Before he can help himself, he's imagining Foggy fucking Karen hard from behind until she sees stars. Maybe she can't walk today from the bruises on the back of her thighs. Where Karen makes Matt soft and careful, she makes Foggy desperate and hungry. He can almost hear the small needy noises she would've been making for him. He can't stop his mind from running a hundred miles an hour. 

“She's allowed a personal day right?” Foggy snaps him out of it. “How many sick days have you taken, Street Fighter? The boss has to set a good example.”

“I guess so,” Matt concedes. 

Foggy is a model of professionalism the whole working day, not giving away anything he might’ve been doing once the sun set the night before, like why he’s not changed his shirt or why he’s wearing Karen’s deodorant. But Matt can barely concentrate. He doesn't like to pry too much; he likes when the two of them spend time together without him, and he gives them what privacy he can to explore each other. It doesn't stop that warm pit of pleasant jealousy in his stomach, coiling up and lying in wait until it can be of use.

But his imagination can’t help running wild. Foggy _must know_ he knows, and it gets him even hotter. By 3pm he's given up reading and rereading the same two lines of police report and suggests they call it a day. 

“Karen’s feeling better, said she’d meet us at your place. Catch up on work and stuff.” Foggy says as he locks the office door behind them, his heart rate picking up just a little, pumping round a tiny jolt of adrenaline. 

 

\---

 

They take longer to get home than usual. Karen’s favourite Chinese is in the opposite direction to home from the office, the one that does the best egg drop soup for miles. Which Foggy insists she needs, being “sick”, and all. 

The walk home is comfortable with the summer sun flushing the back of their necks and Foggy's easy conversation. It passes almost too quickly. 

Matt stops short as they reach his apartment. Karen’s unmistakeable heartbeat is thundering like a drum; maybe he misjudged and she actually is sick. Her body is straining, blood gushing at a rapid pace all through her body, hot and thrumming to the beat of her heart that Matt’s spent months memorising the sound of. Once the door opens it hits him straight in the face, the smell of sweat and shampoo and slick, wet arousal flooding the air. He can taste it in his mouth, heavy and tangy-sweet.

Then Matt hears the soft, wet sound of her thighs rubbing together, and if it wasn't already obvious he knows exactly what she's doing already. 

Foggy calls out to her, setting down the bags of food on the kitchen counter, then Matt hears him gulp as he slides the bedroom door.

“I tried to wait for you both but…” Karen says softly, but with the demure sort of confidence being with the both of them seems to have given her.

“Haven't we talked about this, Karen?” Foggy’s voice is mocking but firm. “Matt, get in here, buddy.”

Matt sheds his suit jacket and shoes and follows into his bedroom. 

“So we _did_ have a surprise planned, but Karen’s gone ahead and started without us.”

Matt imagines what Foggy is like with Karen when it's just the two of them, using the harsh voice he only rarely uses in court, demanding and instructing her. 

He hears her fingers enter herself, and Foggy is already loosening his tie and undoing his shirt buttons, the threads groaning with his urgency. 

“Would you describe her to me, Foggy?”

Foggy swallows. 

“Uh. Yeah. Sure. She's on her back. She's touching herself, Matty, fuck. She's got two, no three fingers inside herself, and the other hand’s moving slowly.” Foggy stops to gulp in a breath he must've forgotten to take, and sits himself on the bottom of the bed, springs groaning under his weight. He feels up her smooth legs up to her thighs like he can't help himself. 

Matt can smell salt on Foggy’s top lip and the precome leaking from his hard cock as it strains from inside his slacks. It's like a rush of masculinity into the air, a stark contrast to everything Karen, her soft, rounded body and sweet scent, and it brings him back down to earth. 

“Her hair is so bright like it's the sun or something, it's all over the pillow. I still can't believe we're here, you know. I can understand me settling for you, but Karen, you're so out of our league.” Karen lets out a weak laugh, her voice cracking a little from exertion. “Matt, come on and touch her.”

He does. The bed dips under their weights as Matt sits down next to her, as he reaches up to smooth her hair off of her damp forehead. He trails a finger down her neck and dances it across her collarbone, making the skin rise into goose pimples. 

Then Karen pulls him down to kiss him. 

He kisses her closed mouthed and sweet, but she flicks her tongue over his lips and pushes them apart. Matt can’t help then holding her in place with one hand and sliding his tongue in against hers and making her groan.

Foggy is so eager he’s getting his pants off already. 

“And while we're still setting the scene; this, my friend, as Karen will attest, is the most beautiful dick to ever grace this earth, take my word for it. Isn't it true?” Foggy teases, kicking off his boxers. Karen giggles in reply, girlish and bright. 

“I know that.” Matt grins, reaching out to touch him, curling his fingers around the head of his cock and squeezing gently. “We’re well acquainted.”

“I don't know about that,” Karen teases. “There's a contender for close second.”

Matt kisses him then, licking the sweat away on his upper lip then forcing his tongue in his mouth, making it dirty and pulling out a deep moan. 

“Could you… Could you fuck his mouth, Foggy?” Karen says as they finally break away. 

“No messing around with this one. Who needs foreplay, right?” Karen leans up to slap Foggy’s arm lightly. She used to be shy, once, but now she knows they'll both give her anything she asks without question. 

“Please? For me?” They would both jump off a cliff for her if she asked them like that, in a small voice like someone might hear her. 

Matt gets on his knees on the bed and finds Foggy easily. He pulls Foggy down so he lies flat, then kisses up his bare thigh up to the thin skin at the crease of his leg, nipping lightly as he goes.

He ghosts a breath over his cock, licking upwards after a beat. Normally he would enjoy taking his time, but today isn't going to be like that. He knew right from this morning. Matt sucks the head and swirls his tongue how Foggy likes, and his head falls backwards, then Matt’s bobbing up and down slowly. Karen draws in a breath. 

He could make Foggy come like this, easily. He's tightly strung too, and his breath starts coming in weak little pants too quickly, until a hand on his head stops him. Foggy catches his breath until he can speak. 

“Get on the floor at the bottom of the bed, Murdock. On your knees.”

“Yes, sir,” Matt teases, grinning. 

The floorboards are cold and unyielding underneath him, but it's soon forgotten as Foggy runs his hand through his hair, standing in front of him now, giving Karen a show. 

“Open wide.”

He does, tilting his head back slightly, and holding onto Foggy’s hips. Then Foggy slides in, so warm and hard, and his precome floods his mouth. The scent is in his nose and he can taste him all over his tongue, he can't escape it. Foggy pushes all the way until he hits the back of Matt’s throat, then back out, and only gives him a second to breathe until he does it again, just a fraction further. 

He fucks his mouth like that, just skirting on the edge of how far he can take it, until his jaw aches and Foggy’s thrusts become erratic. Then he pulls out.

Matt stretches his jaw a few times, then stands up to kiss Foggy. “Gross, dude,” he jokes.

Karen interrupts with a fake cough, and she’s definitely got Foggy wrapped around her little finger, because he’s already on the bed making his way towards her.

Foggy is eager going down on Karen too. Matt knows Foggy’s good at this, he's gotten even better than his reputation at college after finding a willing study in Karen. But he even if didn't know that, her long, low moans and how tightly her fingers clench Matt’s bed sheets would clearly give it away. She gasps as Foggy pushes his tongue inside her, then licks a line up to her clit. He sucks and licks at her until her hips begin to leave the bed as she grinds against him, his five o’clock shadow grazing her soft skin.

In what seems like hardly any time, she uncoils, like she's been lying here tense and aching for hours, and she's coming on Foggy’s deft fingers and clever tongue with a surprised gasp. 

She has to almost fight him away eventually, ever the generous lover, but she laughs and pushes his mouth away, too sensitive and raw from her orgasm. 

Their warm bodies together feel like they could heat up the whole building, and Matt can’t taste anything but the salt of their sweat and the arousal of the other two, thick and heady. 

Karen rolls over onto her stomach then arches up onto her knees. Foggy shuffles himself backwards between her, then he groans long as he enters her. Matt sucks in a quick breath then reaches down to undress himself the rest of the way and touch himself as Foggy slides slickly inside her, her muscles stretching to accommodate his thickness. His fingers make indents in her soft, supple skin as they slide up her thighs, holding her firmly in place at her slim waist. 

He fucks her slowly at first, perhaps too slowly, and she grinds herself back against him. Foggy slaps her ass, the noise bounces off the walls and Karen half laughs, half moans. Foggy picks up speed then, and Matt has to stop himself from doing the same. When he comes he holds her tight and deep, fucking erratically into her, then pulls out.

Karen collapses, tired out, and Foggy kisses her forehead, before falls onto his back next to her, panting. 

“Guys, I’m out for the count. Wake me for breakfast, alright.”

Karen mumbles Matt’s name in the pillow then, beckoning him over.

He comes to her up the bed, settling behind her, then he runs his hands up her body and back down, mapping her for what could've been the thousandth time. He finds a hot patch on her hip from Foggy last night, a bruise. It could've been purple or blue, the way the broken capillaries and blood vessels scramble and gush to repair themselves under her thin skin. He circles his fingers on it so lightly, then presses just hard enough to make her groan and buck her hips.

“ _Matt_ , please, I need you.”

He parts her legs then holds his cock just at her entrance. She’s so warm and wet.

“May I?” he asks.

“Yes, come on.”

Matt slides in easily, and he’s never felt so hot.

Karen’s breathing quickens as she reaches to touch herself again as Matt fucks her so slowly and gently as if she could be made out of glass. Then her body vibrates as she comes easily, over sensitive and raw, groaning and tightening onto Matt’s cock. 

Her cunt still trembling around him, and with the sound of him fucking her made slicker with Foggy’s come, it's almost too much, he has to stop and breathe. Matt pulls out, rutting slowly and aimlessly between her thighs until he's calmed himself down. 

“You're doing great, shhh. It's okay, we've got you,” Karen soothes him, still panting, running her thumb over the back of his hand. 

Foggy is leaning over Karen then kissing Matt’s neck sweetly, tired and closed mouthed and almost innocent just like that morning. Matt breathes slowly until he’s ready.

It doesn't take him more than a few shallow thrusts until he unravels himself, coming hard inside her. He collapses next to her and buries himself into her neck, breathing her in. 

“Room for a little one?” Foggy interrupts, wrestling to roll over Karen to the middle spot, and Karen’s face tightens into what he’s sure is the brightest beam of a smile. Matt shuffles to fit next to Foggy and drapes his arm over his middle, while Karen kisses them both goodnight in turn.

 

\---

 

Matt didn’t own a microwave before the three of them starting doing, whatever this is they’re doing. Foggy bought it for him as an Easter gift, obviously to reheat the large Catholic family sized dinner Karen cooked for them all on the Sunday. Eventually when they wake up, Karen’s stomach grumbles, and he finally pulls himself out of bed to zap all their soups and some rice. They all settle on his couch eating quietly.

“Can I open your fortune cookie?” Foggy asks, already unwrapping the foil. Then before Matt can object, “No way, dude, you’ll never guess what it says. ‘Help! I’m being held prisoner in a Chinese bakery!’”

“Shhh.” Karen says, chastising, she plucks the paper out of his fingers. “It says, ‘ _Everything you need is right under your nose_ ’.” 

Matt laughs, and his knees knock against both Karen’s and Foggy’s on either side of his small three-seater. He feels warm and at home, wanting to be nowhere else in the world.


End file.
